White Lies
by Grey-Rain-Cloud
Summary: At the Department of Mysteries, something horrifying happens. Harry Potter disappears. What the Order doesn't know though, is that Harry hasn't been kidnapped, nor is he dead like some of them believe. He was forced back in time and is now stuck in the year 1982. Their only hope to find Harry is John Evan White, who knows time travel like no other, but can they trust him?
1. Chapter 1

Part 1

It was all a mess. After Sirius almost fell into the veil—the only thing saving him was an invisible jerk if his arm—Harry ran after Bellatrix. It was fuzzy and dazed, the duel—Harry was feeling a little light headed—but the next thing he knew Voldemort was there and it was a fully trained witch and a Dark Lord against a fifteen year old that was still in school—and wasn't even the best in class. It ended abruptly.

The mad woman's _crucio_ hit first, and Harry barely had time to scream before Voldemort's own preferred curse slammed into him. And then he died. But that wasn't the end of it, because amid the screams and cries, something impossible happened. Harry Potter came back to life, but nobody noticed because they had disappeared. Harry stood up and tried to understand what he was feeling. He felt lighter than he had since he could remember; it was as if a balloon that had filled his head that had been swelling had finally deflated. He felt free.

Harry had never been that lucky though, and soon felt a pain that only the Cruciatus rivaled travelling through his body. It felt like he was being flattened and folded, only to be wrung out and stretched again. That was when he blacked out.

When he woke again, Harry was not in the Department of Mysteries anymore. He was in a white room, lying on a white bed, and this made him come to the conclusion that he was in a hospital—probably St. Mungo's. This made a lot of sense considering how sore he was, and how much pain he had been in before he passed out. On instinct, Harry reached over to the table beside his bed for his glasses, before he realised that he could see perfectly. Had the healers fixed his eye sight? Harry didn't know there was a way to do that, if he _had_ known, he would have gotten that fixed up ages ago.

Overwhelmingly curious of what he looked like without glasses, Harry climbed out of bed. _Why is the bed so tall?_ Harry wondered. That thought was viciously cast from his mind as he reached the loo attached to his room, and came upon a sight that was both familiar and horribly foreign. In the mirror was a face that he could recognize as his own, except his usually black hair was changing colors restlessly, as well as his eyes. There was also the fact that his scar—his lightning bolt curse scar—was practically gone. It was a thin silver line that was almost invisible, nothing like the red inflamed thing it was just days ago.

That wasn't what freaked Harry out though; no, what scared the pants off of Harry was the fact that he looked nine years old.

After much panic and a few emotional breakdowns, Harry decided it was best to just wait for Dumbledore or someone else to come and tell him what was going on. To distract himself, Harry examined the room, but there really was nothing to look at. Next, Harry concentrated on his hair—he could see it changing out of the corner of his eye—and tried changing the colors to what he wanted. It took quite a bit more concentration than he thought it would, and he decided that he would have to practice—he tried to ignore the voice in his head screaming that he wasn't a Metamorphmagus, because _obviously_ he was now. That got a bit boring though, and so Harry picked up the _Prophet_ that was on the side table.

He almost immediately wished that he hadn't.

It wasn't because of the news; there was nothing of real consequence there. It was the date.

1982. He'd gone back in time. And he couldn't tell anybody until he caught up, or else he would mess up the time line.

He was stuck.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

It was two weeks after Harry had disappeared and the Order was back at Grimmauld Place. The noticeable difference to this meeting was that even the under seventeen were there. Most either looked exhausted or had red rimmed eyes. Sirius Black looked particularly bad; he was hung over, grieving, and had been cleared of all false charges that had been set against him, so he had been helping search for his godson—even though there wasn't much hope. Most of the Order had seen Harry Potter get hit with the Killing curse, and were really only looking for a body to confirm his death. Remus Lupin looked depressed and ragged; he gave the feeling to those around him that a strong wind would knock him over, just because he didn't care enough to keep himself up.

All of Harry's friends—especially Ron and Hermione—were in a bit of denial. They refused to believe that he was dead, and held some mad delusion that if Harry could survive the Killing curse once, he could do it again. That didn't stop them from crying though.

The only obvious absence was Nymphadora Tonks.

"Welcome everyone," Albus Dumbledore started the meeting, and everyone snapped to attention. "I believe that you all would appreciate it if we got straight to the point," Sirius snorted, and Remus shot him a look of reprimand half-heartedly. "If any of you are wondering where Miss. Tonks is, she is currently getting a friend of hers that we both believe would be able to give us some insight into our dilemma."

Before he could continue, Charlie interrupted, his face scrunched up in confusion. "Who is her friend?"

"He would be your friend too, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling a little.

"Johnny?" Charlie looked astonished for a moment. "But John's a Healer, what would he—" Charlie cut himself off, suddenly looking grim. "Oh. So that's what you believe happened." His voice was incredibly sad.

Sirius snapped. "Will somebody please tell me what you're talking about and what it has to do with my godson?"

"As much as I hate to agree with the mutt," Severus Snape drawled sarcastically, but was strangely missing its usual bite. "I would also like to know what you both are blathering about."

"Quite right," Dumbledore said, "let's continue. I have reviewed everyone's memories of the battle in the Department of Mysteries, and I sincerely believe that Harry Potter is alive." Dumbledore held up his hands for silence, cutting off the uproar that had followed his statement. "While fighting Death Eaters, Time Turners were broken and scattered. Some of the sands covered Harry, and I believe that when Harry was hit with the _Avada Kedavra_ and _crucio_ with the sand on him—and possibly in his blood stream, it caused an extreme reaction that forced him back in time. Now, if he knows anything about time travel, he will stay hidden and tell no one of the future." At this he gave Hermione a questioning look, and made a small gesture to ask if Harry had enough knowledge of time travel to be sensible.

Hermione wrung her hands nervously, her eyes darting to Sirius and Ron and Remus and Snape. "Well, when the both of us used my Time Turner in third year to help Sirius get free, I told him about it. I told him that he couldn't interfere with the future, and he didn't." Everyone seemed to sigh in relief, except for Snape, who looked angry, but Hermione still looked nervous, which set everyone else on edge again. "But… but he-he _really_ didn't want to go by the rules. When there was a chance that he could capture Wormtail before he escaped, he wanted to risk being seen and grab him, even though that didn't happen originally."

"So who's John? And why do we need him?" Remus asked heavily.

Charlie grinned, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Severus looked between the two of them suspiciously, before realization dawned on him and he groaned. "It's him isn't it? Why in the world would you bring him here? It wasn't enough to just have to put up with him for seven year's was it; no, you just have to torture me." He groaned again.

"Okay," Sirius began, "now I'm starting to like him, but _who_ is he?"

Charlie took the liberty of explaining. "John Evan White. He went to Hogwarts with Tonks and I; same year. He was normal at first, but then he picked up some of Tonks' mannerisms, plus some of his own, and he was a bunch of fun. Had a weird obsession with time travel, and would rant about the weirdest things. He lived at St. Mungo's, so he got brilliant at Potions, which is why Professor Snape doesn't like him. He was bloody fantastic at Defense, and knew a fair bit about dragons." Here Charlie smiled, obviously reliving some of their best moments, before continuing. "He was in Hufflepuff, but if he didn't wear the black and yellow robes, I would've pegged him for a Slytherin. He's devious and has so many secrets, your head would spin. He became a Healer for St. Mungo's—the children's ward—which is a good thing, because those ladies over there consider him their son and wouldn't know what to do without him." He saw the questioning looks and elaborated. "He was found when he was about ten, yeah? And he had no memories besides his name. The 'official' excuse for keeping him in the children's ward was that he had permanent brain damage and they thought it was only safe to keep him until seventeen. Really, they just loved him too much to give up, and he had nowhere to go anyways." Charlie paused thoughtfully, and then looked at Dumbledore. "Why didn't you recruit him for the Order? He was always the best at Defense."

Dumbledore smiled, "I tried, but all he would say on the matter was that it wasn't time yet."

To everyone's surprise, Charlie laughed. "Yeah, that sounds just like something that insane idiot would say."

"Why would he say that?" Ron ventured cautiously.

"Because that guy can predict the bloody future. It's crazy, but he'll just know stuff. Completely random stuff, but is adamant that he's not a Seer. He's completely in denial." Charlie smiled. "It'll be good to see him again; I haven't visited him in a while."

It was then that the front door slammed shut.

"FILTHY MUDBLOOD'S! ABOMINATION! NO MUDBLOODS IN MY HOUSE—" Sirius' mother's portrait screamed before being cut off by a male voice.

"SHUT UP YOU OLD PAINT HAG, BEFORE I REPAINT YOU IN PINK!" It was a miraculous thing, the silence that followed. Then it was broken by Sirius laughing. Nobody had heard it in a long time, so it was a bit startling. It was rough from disuse, and resembled more of a dog barking. Remus gave a fond smile, and was soon also chuckling. Before long, almost everyone was smiling.

Tonks walked in, with her usual bubble-gum pink hair, and stumbled in the doorway. The man that followed was curious looking. He was of average height, with a slim build. He had shoulder length, straight pure white hair. His eyes were two different colors, one being grey, and the other green. He looked incredibly smug about telling off a portrait.

"Mr. White, you do seem to know how to make an entrance. Why don't you sit down and we'll explain exactly what we wanted to ask you about." Dumbledore gestured to the seat in between Charlie and Tonks. 'Mr. White' nodded and went to his seat, giving Charlie a bear hug before sitting down.

"Please, there's no need to be to formal, just call me John." He smiled secretively to himself. He then turned to Snape. "It's wonderful to see you again Professor! I _have_ missed our talks in detention." John said slyly, his different colored eyes glittering.

"Johnny!" Tonks reprimanded, but the effect was lost, because she was grinning like a lunatic. There was a blush on her cheeks as well. Charlie obviously noticed it and snorted.

"Are you guys going to get together anytime soon? Because it's obvious that it's inevitable, and no more of that, 'there are some things that I would have to tell her before I went out with her in good conscience, and it's not time yet' nonsense." Charlie said bluntly.

John smiled widely and said, "Well I was planning on those certain things to come out today, so no worries, I'll ask her out afterwards."

Tonks scoffed, "How romantic." She looked pleased though.

Sirius was vaguely amused, but mostly impatient. "Will you be able to find my godson?" he demanded.

"Sirius!" Hermione gasped. "Don't be so rude! And we also need to make sure that Harry isn't messing with time! He could change the future!" She scolded. Sirius scowled.

John coughed—his way of diffusing the argument. "Well actually, there is no way for him to screw time up." When Hermione looked like she was about to object, he turned towards her exasperatedly. "Look, in your third year you went back in time right? And he went out into the open to save himself from Dementors, yeah? Well that technically could be classified as messing with time. It's not though because when he saved himself, he made it possible to go back in time _to_ save himself."

"How did you know…?"

Charlie interjected. "I told you he knew stuff. He's a Seer!"

"I'm not." John objected. "Anyway, it would be the same here; he went back in time, because he was always supposed to go back in time, and whatever he has done in the past had already happened because he was destined to go back, and make the future as it is now. There is no possible way that he messed up time, because he was part of what made it to be this way in the first place. It's circular logic."

There was an awkward silence after that; it's not every day that Hermione Granger was shown up.

"Anyway, has Miss. Tonks informed you about the situation in the Department of Mysteries?" When John nodded, Dumbledore continued, "And is there any way that you could locate what time he went to?"

John smiled brightly. "I already know what time he went to, so no worries about that!" People stared at him. "Oh alright; spoil my fun. 1982."

There was muttering amongst the group, and Hermione sniffed. Remus hesitated, and then asked, "Do you know where he is in this time?" He sounded so painfully hopeful.

John rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. His hair was slowly turning black, and his grey eye changed to match his green one. "That's the thing… I am Harry Potter."


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

It had taken a lot of time for the occupants in the room to calm down at the sight of the newly realized Harry Potter. There had been a wide variety of reactions from the Order.

"That's why I never liked him! He's a Potter!" This was Snape.

"You can't be! Harry wasn't a Metamorphmagus!" Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Tonks.

"So you're _not _a Seer?" Charlie.

"_Silence!_" Dumbledore's magically heightened voice cut through the confusion. He looked a little bit surprised. "Now," he continued in the quiet room, "I'm sure Mr. White, that you will not fault us if we asked you for some proof."

"Of course not." John—or Harry—cleared his throat. "I, Harry James Potter, hereby swear on my life and magic that I am Harry James Potter. So mote it be." There was a flash, and when it died down, John—Harry—was still standing there.

"Well, now that that is out of the way," Dumbledore was maddeningly cheerful. "I would like to know why, Harry, you didn't come to me. I would have gladly kept your secret, and I could have helped you through you're Hogwarts years while you were trying to keep your real identity a secret."

"First of all, I'd prefer if everyone called me John; I've been going by it for a while now, and I find I'm a great deal fonder of it than my last one. Second of all, _you are not allowed to tell people that you are from the future._" John said the last bit with steel, staring straight into Dumbledore's eyes, his mouth tight. "And if I would have told anybody, it would have been Remus or Sirius, not you. You don't tell me secrets—even one that pertains to me—so why would I tell you my own? Third, I have no doubt that you would have kept my identity a secret, but if you didn't know you also would keep my secret because you wouldn't know it to tell it."

"Why did you choose the name John Evan White?" Remus asked curiously, while also trying to dispel the awkwardness that had settled in with the shock of Dumbledore being told off.

John's neck snapped towards Remus and he smiled once again, looking amused. "I thought that you would have guessed that. White, because it is the opposite of Black." Sirius perked up at this and chuckled. "Evan, because Evans was my mother's maiden name. Can you figure out why I chose John though?"

Seeing that Remus was stumped, Hermione ventured, "Is it because it is one of the most common names?" John shook his head.

"Oh!" Sirius exclaimed, and then grinned. "Remus! It's your middle name!" Remus looked a little dumbfounded, but smiled a little.

"So," Tonks said slowly, "that was your way of telling everyone who you were without actually telling anyone at all."

"There you have it!" John laughed. "I'm brilliant, I know. I would bow, but I'm sitting down at the moment—maybe later."

The heavy atmosphere lightened, and quite a few people laughed—if only to relieve some anxiety that they were still holding onto. "Can you tell us, perhaps, why you did not come forward to us? Why did you wait for us to go to you?" Dumbledore asked.

"Well, originally I did plan on telling all of you right away, but I had a lot of things that were more pressing." He noticed some of the glares he was getting for that comment and held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, hey, _hey_! I even went to the Department of Mysteries under an invisibility cloak to help. I did too; I pulled Sirius away from falling into the Veil. But before I could 'come out' I got a Patronus that one of my patients needed me, so I went back to work." He shrugged. "Sorry if taking care of my wards is on the top of my priorities list."

Nobody really had anything to say to that.

"Hey!" Charlie said suddenly. "Why are you a Metamorphmagus, and why is your scar so unnoticeable?" Under his breath he muttered, "I can't believe that I'm best friends with Harry Potter and I didn't even know."

"That one is a bit more difficult to explain, and one of the secrets I talked about previously," he glanced at Dumbledore, "with have to be told—not that everyone shouldn't have known in the first place, but I think an Unbreakable Oath to never tell anyone what I am about to tell you would be required." He looked at the Order expectantly. Everyone complied, too curious to not take the risk.

"Wonderful!" John clapped his hands. "So, I'll give you all a crash course in Dark Magic—I studied that as well; not just time travel. There is an object called a Horcrux. It is a disgusting thing, also known as a soul container." Sirius went wide-eyed, and clapped his hand over his mouth in revulsion. "Sirius knows what it is." John said grimly.

"The mutt knows about Dark Magic?" Snape asked in surprise.

"Sirius?" Remus was a little confused at the strong reaction of his friend. He also didn't know that Sirius had very much knowledge of Dark Magic.

"Of course I know about it." Sirius snapped. "Did you expect me to always just know that my parents were wrong? No, when I was young and my mother and father tutored me, I was under the impression that Dark Magic was the best kind, so I have extensive knowledge of what my parents taught me, and it definitely wasn't Light Magic." He shook his head in disgust. "I was never good at it though; my magic didn't like it—it was too Dark, too brutal… too twisted." He took a deep, rattling breath and closed his eyes. Remus put a hand on his shoulder, but was as surprised as the rest.

"A Horcrux," John continued as if nothing had happened, "is made by murder. Then the maker performs a ritual and rips off a part of their soul and places it into an object. When this is done, the maker is practically immortal. The Horcrux can only be destroyed by basilisk venom, Fiendfyre, or if the person felt _true_ remorse for what they had done—which is highly unlikely." John paused. "It is my belief that Voldemort has made several of these; I was one of them." He shushed everyone so he could finish his explanation when they had started to speak. "The Killing curse that Voldemort fired me with destroyed it. With the destruction of the hitch hiking soul within me, it freed a block that it had created and I was able to use my Metmorphmagus ability… I was also able to see without my glasses, so I believe that it was also impairing my vision. With me already going back in time—time sand going through my blood—then the sudden ability to change my appearance, I woke up in my nine year old body.

"Now all we have to do is find all of Voldemort's other soul containers and destroy them."

"Others?" Sirius spluttered in horror.

"Yes, others. It's a good thing that I know where we can find a basilisk then, huh?" John smiled.


End file.
